


Lacking

by diminushed



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: AU, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, DAN AND PHIL - Freeform, Fluff, Gay, M/M, Male/Male, Phan - Freeform, Phandom - Freeform, Romance, Slash, Smut, Support, alternative universe, sci fi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 00:19:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6831310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diminushed/pseuds/diminushed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan Howell has grown up wingless in a world full of wings. Old legends have twisted the views of his peers, leaving him utterly alone until he meets the strangely beautiful Phil Lester, who has a different view on their world. Phil may not have the ability to give Dan wings, but he can sure as hell make him feel as if he's flying. Chapters 1-7 were originally written by Katie and Rene', but Katie has taken the project onto herself now.  Fluff/Angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ilman

**Author's Note:**

> Though this story is available on Wattpad and FFN already, I decided to upload on AO3! This version of the story is the edited and continued version, so it will seem much more put together than it did originally on Wattpad/FFN, where I will still be posting.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introduction.

_ it requires a very unusual mind to undertake the analysis _

_ of the obvious _

_ -alfred north whitehead _

 

Walking the halls was the absolute worst, with the quiet whispers and the stares of judgmental eyes boring into Dan's abnormally bare back. He thought they would've gotten used to him by now, but even after sixteen years he was still considered an outcast. As if it wasn't bad enough, Dan was one of the only non-winged kids in existence, leading the school to insist that he be put in special-needs classes to teach him functionality. 

Academics weren’t Dan’s problem though. He did fine academically, hell, it could even be said that he was above average. His issue was with the other students, and how no matter how smart he was, because of his disability; he'd never be seen as an equal to them. He'd always be known as the one impurity in a school full of people who could always say "At least I'm more liked than that wingless weirdo."

Most kids here couldn't even be bothered to learn his real name.

Despite everyone's very intense efforts to cover them up, he knew about the nicknames. 

Dan passed a group of girls who seemed to be particularly engrossed in the topic of him, with their speckled wings folded against their skinny backs and their tiny mouths whispering away at the rumors that had been drifting amongst the building ever since the history classes started to teach about the Great War.

_ "Evil…” _

All his life, Dan had been told not to take the comments too seriously; to push them aside because he was unique and special. Of course, this advice was from a parent, two parents; Dan's parents. Dan grew up trusting his parents, trusting everything they told him. It’s not like he could possibly know any better. Up until the age of six, he believed his parents claims; Dan took pride in having no wings for the first six years of his life. But then he started schooling, and with schooling comes new people. Most of the kids around Dan had never seen a wingless being before. Most of the kids were scared of Dan.

Dan Howell wore his heart - and his pride - on his sleeve until it was torn off by words.

It wasn’t an immediate process, not even close to being quick. Ever since the beginning of primary school, each daily set of harmful slurs acted like a dull pair of shears, tearing away at his confidence bit by bit. And sometimes, on days like these when every hushed whisper seemed to echo through Dan's ears at a magnified volume, it would feel as if there wasn't a single piece of self-esteem left in his damaged thoughts.

Dan narrowly avoided being shoved into a massive group of people as he sidestepped through the bustling crowds of students, all attempting to make it to their next class on time. As he desperately tried not to be swept away in the hallways like a stone in a river's current, Dan passed the rail-less balcony that led down to the ground floor. Kids fearlessly leapt from high-risen ledge, gliding with massive, multicolored wings until their feet landed securely on the colored linoleum below.

Dan’s stomach clenched at the sight, he hurriedly avoided going anywhere near the ledge. He remained practically hugging the white marble wall, until he made it safely to his next class, Art and Theory. Art was his favorite class. It made him feel alive and accepted. It was the only time he could escape from the world around him; it was the only time he could fly. 

Of course, it was all in his head, but it was as close to flying as he’d ever get. Painting was Dan’s passion. He carried his handmade brushes with him wherever the wind took him just in case he found the perfect thing to preserve on canvas. His passion came with the price of more ridicule, though. No one wanted to hang out with the wingless artist who could only seem to paint things that others couldn’t see.

He preferred to paint still life, though no one could ever seem to grasp what his work really was; his work was far too complex for most of the Avitarians. He covered blank surfaces with towering grey pillars and small machines with wheels. No one knew what these things were, and neither did Dan. The only thing Dan knew was that he dreamed of these things. He dreamed and they all felt so real, he couldn’t help but express them and unleash them from his mind.

Allowing all the colors on his pallet to harmonize on paper was the closest Dan ever came to these dream realities in real life. The way the brush caressed the canvas, leaving behind marks of its affection on the white surface, was pure beauty, even if what came out wasn't always clear.

On this particular day, Dan began to sketch out an image that had been tugging at his mind for weeks. The pencil between his left thumb and index finger lightly traced the invisible outlines of children - wingless children - making playthings out of the simplest constructions of metal. One swung skillfully from rung to hanging rung, while another resided frozen in time, high above the ground with child-like hands gripping chains that suspended the seat she sat on. In his head, Dan saw the expressions of pure glee on their faces, the afternoon sun shining brightly across the scene. He could picture the undrawn features of the boy, no larger than a toddler, letting grains of sand slip through his small, stubby fingers.

In the background, Dan saw an animal with four legs, a long face and wagging tail. The unfamiliar creature was captured mid-leap, its long auburn coat shining like copper in the light. Dan sketched a sphere in the friendly beast's jaws, along with a young boy who smiled happily in the distance.

It wasn't often that he added people to his paintings, but for some reason, picturing this scene without life just seemed wrong, sad even. There was just something about the colorful structures that screamed, "Play with me!”. The children were needed to complete the piece. 

There were only six other kids in Dan’s art class: a set of twins that went by the names of Anne and Ari, a small girl named River, the school’s head harp player who went by the title of Drake, the art teacher's daughter Clara, and Charlie Skies, one of the most beautiful boys Dan had ever seen.  

“I am in so much  _ pain _ .” Drake cried out, dropping his pencil and stretching his fingers. “I don’t know how my parents expect me to draw and play my harp in a constant loop with no breaks.  _ I can’t take this! _ ”

Because Drake Wingman’s live was so fucking hard, right?

“Oh, toughen up, would you?” Anne said, rolling her eyes. “You’re one of the most privileged kids in this entire school. Be glad you didn’t get the short end of the stick.” Dan could feel her gaze painting invisible wings onto his back.

His eyes closed slowly as he allowed fresh air to fill his lungs. Dan was okay, he just needed a bit of convincing. He stayed in this position for the rest of the duration of class, completely still. Once he opened his eyes, he found himself alone in the classroom with Charlie, who didn’t seem to even realize he was there. His hair was a hot mess - a literal  _ hot  _ mess – as he yawned and stretched his wings out behind him.

“Charlie,” A new voice called from the doorway. Dan’s didn’t bother looking towards the door, he was much too immersed in cleaning his station and becoming coherent again. 

“Phil,” Charlie stood up, flapping his wings slightly to stand in almost a mystical way. “I’ve missed you.”

Dan packed away the rest of his brushes into each of their specific pouches and returned his current project to his art rack before glancing at his company. He should have known it was Phil Lester, really. Charlie and Phil hugged in the middle of the classroom, their wings curled in with contentment. They were truly beautiful. Dan stared until he realized he was staring. When he finally was able to tear his gaze away from them, he felt ashamed. He wasn’t even supposed to observe those in love; wingless beings were supposedly incapable of love.

Dan had never allowed himself to really stare at Phil for more than five seconds out of the fear of being caught.

He knew this was false, wingless beings being incapable of love. He loved his parents, he loved his art, and he loved his best friend, Bishop. Of course, Bishop was a flying monkey, but he still counted, didn’t he? He was Dan’s only friend. Dan raised and cared for Bishop since the age of nine, and Bishop returned Dan’s kindness with friendship.

Awkwardly, Dan shuffled out of the room, the strap of his bag hung loosely over one shoulder and a stack of books hugged into his chest. He didn’t want to interrupt whatever was happening in the now empty classroom. That would just draw more attention to him.

The corridors were mostly empty, a telltale sign that he was probably going to be late for his last class of the day, not that he cared. It was the mandatory “In Flight” class that The Counsel – the leaders in the Avitarian’s system of government – had decided was needed to express the importance of physical fitness and wing stretching. None of this pertained to Dan, and maybe he should have been glad, but it was hard to be glad when you’ve been left out of something for eleven years of schooling. The only good thing Dan had gotten out of the class was the inspiration to paint his mother’s favorite painting, “Exclusion in Grey”.

He didn’t even really know where to go, seeing as though he had already missed the changing period and role call. It seemed pointless for him to even attend his last hour class.

So he left.

Fearing his mother's wrath, he did not head home. Instead, he carried himself to the small koi pond outside of the building that no one seemed to know about. A smooth, stone bench waited for him under the shade of a great tree, not to say all of the trees weren’t great, most of them towered up past the sky-high homes of the Avitarians. Dan took a seat on the bench; pulling his legs up to sit in a “crisscross” manner, another thing not many of his classmates were able to do. A warm, gentle breeze blew across Dan, making the corners of his mouth turn up and his eyes shut. It was the sixth month of the year, early in the sixth month, which meant Dan’s birthday was soon. He didn’t know the exact day, but then again, no one did. A letter notified you at your door congratulating you on another year of life. It was kind of despicable, but Dan couldn’t hide his joy for that special day.

Dan imagined being home alone all day, his parents flying off to work in the morning after whispering goodbyes and letting him sleep in past his usual wake-up time. He imagined waking up to the warm scent of brewing honey-tea and fresh berry scones. He imagined popping open the window of his room and climbing up to dangle his legs out of the window, scones and honey-tea in lap. It was to be a good day. Whenever that day came.

All of Dan’s blissful thoughts were suddenly halted by a recently heard voice. 

“Mind if I sit? There’re usually two benches, but one of them seems to have gone missing.”


	2. pasipo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The interaction begins.

_ you can, you should, and if you’re brave enough to start, you will _

_ -stephen king _

Dan looked around two, three times to make sure Phil was talking to him.  

“N-No, I don’t mind.” Dan stuttered, pushing his bag close to his side and untucking his legs to scoot over to the left side of the bench. Phil sat before entirely tucking in his wings, a single feather brushing against Dan’s face, leaving Dan petrified. He had never touched anyone’s wings besides his mother’s. He remembered sitting in the living room as a small child and asking to touch her soft feathers. She had stretched them out completely as his innocent curiosity had gotten the best of her, allowing him to explore.

Phil's wings, unlike the sandy shade of brown of his mother's, were similar to an oil slick; pitch black, with a dizzying array of colors that glinted off of each feather in the high afternoon sun. Dan turned to look away with a blush high on his cheeks as he realized he was staring, but it was a little hard  _ not  _ to. Phil's angular features cast sharp shadows across his nearly white skin, which contrasted quite nicely against his dark hair and wings. His pale blue eyes stared longingly into space, taking in the beauty of the pond whilst seemingly reflecting the color of the partly cloudy sky. There was a complexity behind those eyes, as if behind them all the knowledge of the world rested, just waiting to be discovered by the mind's eye.

He was beautiful in a sense that not many would be able to see at first glance. A type of good looking that seemed to creep up the longer you stared, until it pounced on you, and you realized that the boy standing before you was male-model material. Unlike his boyfriend, who used his attractive features like a weapon, Phil Lester seemed to be completely unaware of his own beauty; or at least a bit more modest of it.

"Did you know the fish like to be pet?" Phil asked, and the other boy jumped a little at the deeper tone of his inquisitive voice. Dan looked around again, and upon seeing no one else, shook his head a little.

"Why do you keep doing that? You look around like you don't think I'm talking to you." Phil asked, sounding curious rather than interrogative. The winged boy's gaze shifted from the pond of swimming fish, to the boy next to him on the bench, his head cocked to the side slightly.

"S-sorry, I just didn't think you'd w-want to talk to me." Dan stuttered quietly in reply. Phil smiled.

"If I didn't want to talk to you I wouldn't have spoken in the first place, silly. And it's alright, you don't have to apologize."

"Sorry." Dan muttered, before blushing at what he'd done. Phil's crooked smile only grew. "So what were you saying about the fish?" he asked, attempting to drag the subject away from his embarrassment.

"They like to be pet, they can even memorize a person's touch. It’s quite cool actually. The big orange spotty one likes me the best." Phil answered proudly, pointing to one of the biggest fish which was about the size of Dan's forearm. It was just visible from their spot on the bench. Dan couldn't help but notice the almost childish sparkle in his blue eyes as he asked, "Do you want to see?"

Dan found himself nodding as Phil arose from the stone bench, walking across the carefully tended to grass, and through the few flowers that remained around the pond, careful not to step on any. He motioned for Dan to follow him through the greenery and to the edge of the pond. Dan was skeptical, but Phil’s face shone with nothing but happiness and curiosity. It was as if he had no choice but to trust him. It was strange, though. Phil had never once laid eyes on Dan, or at least that’s what Dan assumed. He had practiced the art of invisibility for so long; he didn’t know what else to be.

Dan found himself at the edge of a medium sized basin of water in a few small steps. The koi swirled around beautifully, their colorful tails swishing through the clear water in a nearly hypnotic way.

Dan glanced nervously at Phil, who was smiling much like that of an excited kid showing off a new toy. He had personally never even thought of touching the fish, because seriously, who would? But for some reason he found himself trusting what Phil had said. Slowly, Phil knelt down to a crouching position, and - not really sure of what else to do - Dan followed in suit. Phil gingerly reached out a pale hand, and Dan watched as it hovered just over the clear surface of the water.

The koi went crazy, beginning to thrash about in the pond, but Phil didn't flinch. Gently, he pushed his hand downward slightly so that his fingertips made the transition into the water. Dan suddenly found himself wondering if the fish were getting tired of only eating whatever plants grew on the pond floor.

"They don't bite, do they?" he asked, and Phil looked up at him with the smallest of grins.

"I haven't the slightest idea."

The fish were calmer now, which Dan took as a good sign, and in the midst of the swimming bodies, he saw the one Phil had been pointing to only moments ago. The others seemed a lot more willing to move out of the larger fish's way when it broke through the crowd of intertwining scales and fins.

It looked much larger up close, perfectly capable of fitting Phil's entire hand in its gaping mouth if it really wanted to, but still the taller boy showed no fear. The koi, much like how Bishop greeted Dan when he returned home, swam eagerly into Phil's touch. Its orange and black scales glinted in the light as it repeatedly swam under his long fingers.

Dan chuckled in a childlike glee, as the friendly giant nuzzled against Phil's hand.

“See,” Phil smiled gently. “I told you she likes me.” Dan liked that Phil had decided to use feminine pronouns on the fish, even if they were incorrect for the being. “You just need to be really genuine. They can sense when you’re not acting correctly.”

Dan stared down again at the cuddly fish, before Phil's deep, almost raspy voice broke the silence.

"Would you like to try?"

Honestly, even though Dan had seen the gentle nature of the large fish, it still terrified him. What if it bit his hand off or something because he was unfamiliar? Though, even with this fear set in his mind, he also didn't want to disappoint Phil. So slowly, he nodded his head.

Dan reached his hand over the rippling water, a bit shakier than he intended, and tried taking deep breaths to calm his trembling nerves. The other fish in the pond thrashed about, just as they had done with Phil, only unlike the other boy, Dan flinched, pulling his hand back in close to his body. Phil laughed, though it wasn't mocking, it was more of an understanding chuckle.

"I know, they can be a little intimidating,” he said softly, and Dan could feel the color intensifying in his cheeks.

"Like this." Phil murmured a little quieter, reaching out to take Dan's hand gently by his wrist. His slightly calloused fingers were soft on Dan's skin, and the boy's delicate touch was doing nothing to help with the blush, which had now taken over his face.

Phil's hand guided Dan's to the surface of the water, slowly plunging their fingers into its cold depths. The fish that had grown to be like Phil's pet swam eagerly closer to its master's hand, and looked about as surprised as a fish can look at the unfamiliar limb. It wriggled closer so that its mouth was so close to Dan's skin that he could feel its tentacle-like fish whiskers grazing the surface in an almost tickling manner. The koi swam forward so suddenly Dan barely had time to register the smooth feeling of its scales beneath his fingertips, until it swam around in a circle to be pet again, and he laughed. Though it wasn't necessary for Phil to keep his hand where it was, it stayed put. Now that Dan had gotten over his fear, he felt almost thankful for its presence.

The smaller boy turned his gaze from the pond to look at Phil, a proud smile etched on his lips. Sparkling blue eyes locked onto brown, while reflecting the pride Dan felt for himself; and still Phil's hand didn't move from its spot.

There was a comfortable silence between the two of them. Dan found it odd how relaxed he felt in a stranger’s presence.

“Eck-hm,”

Dan jumped at the sudden noise, but Phil didn’t appear to be shocked at all. A small frown appeared on his face as he unnoticeably pulled his hand away from Dan’s.

“Charlie,”

“Phil, let’s go.” Charlie’s voice terrified Dan with its gentle sternness. Phil didn’t even look twice at before walking forwards to his boyfriend.

“We need to talk.” His voice stayed at an even level, but Dan saw the fear in his stance. There should be no fear when talking to loved ones.

“Well, then please, let’s talk. Just not here.” Charlie glanced at Dan, and for a moment, Dan swore he saw fire. “Not around people like him. We’re not allowed to.” His hand came up to firmly grasp Phil’s arm. “We’re leaving.”

Phil turned to Dan quickly to say, “Goodbye, Dan,” before getting promptly whisked away.

Dan felt guilty. There was no way he wasn’t going to feel guilty. He had just caused the school’s star couple to fight, even if it was unintentional, even if he didn’t provoke it. He hadn’t taken Charlie’s comments to heart, for he was used to them, but for whatever reason, he still felt like hiding. For the first time ever, someone had taken notice to him; someone had actually cared enough to talk to him. Loneliness refilled into the pit of Dan’s stomach and his fists clenched madly. The shock was wearing off and the initial reaction was finally settling in. He felt upset, which was a funny aspect. Dan Howell wasn’t allowed to be upset. He wasn’t allowed to be anything but a wingless freak.

_ “They don’t bite, do they?” _

_ "I haven't the slightest idea." _

Dan shut his eyes tightly and told himself to relax. He wanted to go home, he wanted to go home,  _ he wanted to go home. _ Going home sounded like a new kind of heaven because he knew that home was a place he wouldn’t be teased. It was the last day of the week, meaning he had two full days to himself if he chose to stay at home like he normally did.

No, he definitely didn’t let Charlie’s comment get to him.

He carefully carried himself back to the bench, pulling together all of his things and packing them away. He tried to think about art instead of Phil, but then it dawned on him that Phil was art. Phil was art and music and poetry all at the same time; he was all of the things Dan wanted. It was a shame, how unreachable he was. Dan knew he wasn’t supposed to think like this, but this was the first time any person besides his parents had ever reached out to him. What else was he supposed to feel other than pure adoration?

Did he feel ashamed? No, not at all. Should he? Yes.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Dan exited his favorite area, he exited the school, and he entered the forest, heading straight for his escape. Many Avitarians lived in the forest – or rather above the forest – in the tall, hollow, overbearing trees that circled their mystical world. Dan lived in one of the tallest trees, which was a bit ironic, really. He obviously couldn’t  _ fly  _ up to his house, so his parents had installed somewhat of a pulley system. Dan loved the simplicity of it but hated the attention the loud noise of the cable dragging across a metal surface created.

He did not go up at first. Instead, he laid his bag down in the tall, thin grass and took his spot beside it, looking up at the twirling tree branches and speckled skies above. The same warm breeze from before blew the grass tickling his limbs and face, causing him to giggle. It was in moments like these where he was truly happy.

He began to think, as he usually did in that position. It wasn’t long before visions of a black haired boy rested in his mind, where they seemed to stay planted. It was in this moment, where Dan had to force himself to sit up, for he had realized a very important detail of the day.

Phil had known his name.

Dan let out a heavy breath, pulling his knees in close to his head, his nails digging into the flesh of his legs. It was as if the only thing he could do was cry.


	3. senza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> strange events

_ that’s the ideal meeting… once upon a time, only once, unexpectedly, then never again _

_ -helen oyeyemi _

“Dan, are you home?”

“Yeah, mom.”

Dan hid in his room just as he always did in the late afternoon, staring at the ceiling as his favorite wooden record spun on it’s machine, unleashing a flurry of notes around his room. He had calmed down quite a bit, but he wasn’t relaxed in the slightest. His hands clawed at the blankets that pooled around him as he laid in his cot. His bed was his favorite feature of his room, suspended two feet above the ground by beautiful rope chords on each corner of the frame. He owned three blankets and five sets of two pillows, providing  Dan with the comfort he craved. The warmth of his blankets kept him from the frigidness that encased his mind and body on a daily basis.  

“Dan, honey,” A knock came upon Dan’s door, followed by his mother’s voice. The door opened with a low creak, making Dan sit up in his bed. “Your father and I are going out tonight with the neighbors, so you’re going to be alone.”

“Alright,” Dan nodded, his bed gently swaying behind him. “Do you need me to do anything?”

His mom smiled. “No, that’s okay. Just stay out of any serious trouble.”

She closed the door tightly, leaving Dan alone once again. He could hear his parents light chatter through the thin walls of their home in the sky. They had no clue he could always hear what was said between the two of them; they didn’t know he could hear every flap of their wings and every conflicted sigh that escaped their mouths. Dan had always been quiet for obvious reasons, and this fact had become useful and occasionally devious. 

As soon as he heard his parents leave, he jumped up to open his bedroom window, throwing back wooden shutters to reveal an overly pleased Bishop.

“Hey, buddy,” Dan chuckled, opening his arms for the small monkey to leap into. Bishop let out a small squeak of contentment and leapt off of the windowsill into the boy’s awaiting arms, flapping his wings twice. Dan’s hands pressed against the monkey’s back, giving him a small squeeze. “Are you hungry?” He asked in a tone that was reserved only for Bishop. Bishop seemed to smile and nod as he climbed out of Dan’s arms and onto his head.

“You’re ridiculous,” Dan laughed, allowing his friend to remain perched on top of his head. “Let’s go make some dinner.”

Every building in Dan’s world was proportioned for people with wings. Large, wide archways were present in even the simplest of homes. His home was designed just like everyone else’s; the towering arches made Dan feel smaller than ever, if that were possible. 

“Let’s see what’s on the menu,” Dan said, reaching up to pull Bishop off of his head. In the icebox, there was barely anything besides frozen meats and packaged foods; nothing Bishop could safely eat. Dan turned to see the monkey perched on the kitchen island, a small vine of grapes in his tiny hand. 

"I see you've found something on your own." Dan smiled. The tiny mammal made little noises of content as he plucked a purple grape from the vine and popped the fruit into his mouth. Dan watched Bishop eat, chuckling at the tiny slurping sounds that came from the juice of the grape being devoured by the monkey’s tongue. 

The rest of the evening was still undecided, but it was most likely going to pertain to playing a game of fetch with Bishop, followed by an extended painting period. Dan’s parents had bought him a complete art set recently, containing everything from paints to pastels to chalk. He felt a big guilty that they spent so much money on him, but he knew it was their attempt to make up for everything else he was lacking. 

“C’mon, let’s go back to my room.” Dan said once Bishop had finished his small meal. He was glad Bishop showed up today – every once in awhile, he would cease to show up. Dan really needed a distraction. The monkey chirped at Dan’s words, flapping towards his room as the boy followed behind him. “Would you mind if I paint you again?” Dan asked when they settled in his room. Bishop seemed eager at the prospect, bounding up the perch Dan had made himself outside of his window. For someone who was lacking wings, Dan really didn’t show much of a fear of heights.

“Someone’s eager,” Dan laughed, reaching into the bin beneath his bed to fetch his art supplies. “I’m thinking about using oil pastels today. What do you think?” Bishop replied with a pleased squeak, clapping his tiny hands together twice and flapping his gray and white speckled wings. 

Dan sketched a quick outline in pencil first, the graphite sliding easily over the white paper, leaving behind the faintest of gray lines. Bishop sat still for the duration of the art project miraculously. Dan appreciated how well behaved the monkey could be as he smudged together grays and browns to come up with the perfect tone for the small being. Everything was going quite smoothly until Bishop’s head snapped up in a sense of alertness, his wings curled up in a waiting position. Dan’s concentrated face shifted to a rather confused one.

“Everything okay, Bishop?” He asked, reaching his arm for the monkey to climb up, but Bishop rejected the offer. Instead, his head shot down towards the ground. A sudden screech erupted from his small lungs as his even tinier hands starting pointing and wildly waving towards the forest floor.  Dan started to panic as the monkey grew louder; no one could find out about Bishop. “Bishop, quiet!” Dan whispered sharply, putting down his supplies to reach out of the window and scoop up his friend. “You know no one can find out about you.” The monkey squeaked in a softer tone, his hand still pointing. “What is it?” Dan asked, putting down Bishop. His curiosity led him to lean the top half of his body out of the window to get a better view of the ground. There was nothing that could’ve prepared him for what he saw.

“Ah, Dan!” Phil waved from below, causing Dan to almost fall out of his window.

“W-What are you doing here?” Dan sputtered, desperately trying to stay inside of the high-up window. “You shouldn’t be here; I don’t want to get you in more trouble.”

“Trouble?” Phil chuckled, taking a seat on the soft grass about a hundred feet below Dan. “You got me in no trouble. Charlie’s just a bit protective, that’s all.”

Dan stared at the boy below his window. What the hell was he doing here? Why the hell was he talking to Dan?

“You’re still not supposed to be talking to me.” Dan protested. This had to be some sort of joke. He had appreciated what had happened at the koi pond, but he had assumed that to be a one-off of sorts. There was no way  _ Phil Lester _ was here just for a nice chat. “Why  _ are  _ you talking to me? You could get in big trouble for even acknowledging me.”

“Fair enough,” Phil said. “But you’re not supposed to be talking to  _ me _ either, and yet, here we are, having a casual discussion.”

“It’s not exactly casual when you’re a hundred feet below me, now is it?” It was to be assumed that Dan Howell wasn’t a very good communicator after all of those years of loneliness, but the situation was quite the opposite, really. Dan was good at talking, and he knew it. He knew he had a good voice and a good vocabulary, and this knowledge gave him a strange sense of confidence. “Why are you just sitting down there, anyway?” A hint of anxiety started to build in the pit of his stomach as he realized he immediately felt guilty for even attempted to be calm, collected, and flirty around Phil. 

“Well,” Phil sighed, lying down to look directly up at Dan. “I just assumed that you’d like to be above someone for once to see how it feels. I’m sorry, if you want me to come up to talk, I will.”

_ He… what? _

“No, no, that’s okay then, I guess,” Dan mumbled just loud enough for Phil to hear him. He could feel the stupid expression on his face as he looked up at the sky. Several people were just visible through the thick tree branches, soaring high above the world. Phil’s sentence was still sinking into Dan at a slow rate. This boy was tearing Dan apart and putting him together all at once. “Thank you,” He paused for a second, trying to gather his thoughts. “For today, I mean.” 

“Oh, it’s no problem. The fish really liked you, you know.” Phil said.

Dan blushed. “Oh, I’m glad. They were kind of terrifying until I actually got to understand them.”

Phil smiled. “I understand completely.” His words were said in somewhat of a knowing tone. Dan glanced at Bishop for a second for some reconciliation, but Bishop had already long forgotten about the situation. Dan sighed.

“Why are you here anyway-” Dan began to ask; peering down at the ground far below his window, stopping mid sentence at the realization that Phil was gone. “He’s,” Dan babbled, looking back to Bishop. “What the hell?”

Bishop bounded towards the window, hopping on the perch once more to look down. It was almost as if the monkey shrugged.

“Okay,” Dan sighed, returning to his art. “Let’s finish this up.”

Dan was able to finish the painting, and Bishop was able to stay still for the duration he needed to stay still for. It was amazing how he was able to keep a happy atmosphere in the painting, for Dan was upset. He was angry at Phil for coming and leaving like the seasons, he was confused at why someone was even talking to him, and he was sad. Dan’s heart hurt. It had never done that before, hurt that is. It felt like someone was sticking a knife into him and twisting it just to play with him. It sucked more than being ignored did.

Dan began to wonder if he had just imagined Phil. 

“Alright, Bishop, it looks like we’re done.” Dan murmured after smearing the last bit of the brown and gray oil pastel mix. The monkey chirped happily, bounding over to his friend to see the finished product. “Do you like it?” Dan asked, instantly feeling better as Bishop climbed up his arm. Bishop jumped up onto Dan’s shoulder to snuggle into his neck, a sign of affection that Dan knew was for approval. “Thanks,” He reached up to scratch the monkey’s back in a caring manner. “Let’s play a bit of fetch while this dries.”

Bishop was always happiest while playing.

“Go get your favorite ball,” Dan chuckled at the monkey’s glee at the idea of chasing a ball through the air. Bishop hopped off of Dan over to the top of the boy’s dresser, picking up a twine ball and throwing it at Dan, who caught it in an agile manner. They made their way to the window, Bishop flying out and hovering in front of the home as Dan carefully climbed out to sit on the edge of the windowsill. 

Bishop squeaked in excitement as Dan held up the ball, drawing back his arm and letting the light bundle of twine fly. The monkey darted after it at an incredible speed to reach the landing spot before the ball even had. It never ceased to amaze Dan how quickly Bishop's small gray wings could carry him.

The monkey returned to Dan in a blur of grays and browns, before tossing the ball back to him to be thrown again. The simplicity of the game was entertainment in itself, but Dan loved the joy it brought Bishop. He loved how it gave him time to think, although it's not as if he didn't do that enough. He thought of his nearly microscopic place in this endless universe, nothing more than a speck of dust within billions. He thought of the planets and stars and galaxies, sprawled throughout the endless vacuum of space. He thought of Phil, and how out of every accidental composition of atoms out there, he had chosen to speak to him today.

Him, the waste of space.

Him, the emotionless defect.

Dan's legs dangled over the side of his house while he shook the thoughts from his head. He shifted his full focus back on Bishop, happy Bishop who squealed as he soared through the air to chase the ball Dan threw. He watched the expression of pure glee on the monkey's face and smiled.

He'd had enough thinking for today.


	4. heb

_ and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart _

_ i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart) _

_ -e.e. cummings _

 

The next morning, Dan woke up in his own personal sunbeam, a single ray of warmth directly upon him and his numerous blankets. He did not feel trapped like other mornings; suffocated by cloth and occasionally the heat of Bishop. Dan felt comforted by the warm feeling that spread from his head to his toes. As he flipped his body over to face away from the sun, he could feel his bed gently rock beneath him, willing him to go back to sleep. So he did, but only for another hour.

It was not the sun that awoke him on this occasion. Instead, it was a vivid dream that was certain to provoke thoughts. Dan dreamt of a land high above a sea of clouds, him in a one room house. He dreamt of wings on his back and he dreamt of a boy with jet-black wings. He dreamt that they lived together and he dreamt of an embrace.

And then he woke up once more. 

He woke up facing the sun once again, burying his face into the nearest pillow. His room was brighter than usual due to the fact that he never closed his window after Bishop had left the night before. It was just another habit that he needed to break. 

Dan groaned at the intruding rays of light that shined directly in his line of vision from the outside world. Why did the sun always seem so much more horrifically vibrant in the mornings?

The rumbling coming from his stomach was the only thing that eventually dragged Dan out of bed. He was surprised that the air lacked the scent of breakfast, as his mom always seemed to prepare something for him. He slipped out of bed slowly, yawning and stretching as he padded out of his room. His house was a circular shape, all bedrooms and bathrooms jetting off from the main kitchen and livingroom area. Dan expected to be greeted by a pair of familiar voices, but instead, he was met with an empty kitchen, and a small, bright green post-it note stuck to the icebox.

Curious, Dan made his way towards the stainless steel appliance, rubbing the sleep dust from his eyes so that he could read the note properly. Immediately he was able to recognize his mother's small, swirly handwriting.

_ Dan, _

_ The Jefferson's invited us to brunch. There's cereal in the cupboard. _

- _ Mom _

Dan knew that his parents didn't have many friends, he also knew that that was mostly his fault. Unfortunately, some of the adults had the same tendency to stare and point at him as their kids did. So much for maturing with age. This being said, there was no way Dan was about to complain about his parents not being there. Instead, he decided to forget about it and make himself a bowl of cereal, because that was what he was meant to do. It’s not like he was  _ allowed  _ to be upset. 

He had stopped trying to tag along with his parents to brunches and cook-outs and other work-related events as soon as he was old enough to realize that he wasn't wanted; as soon as he was old enough to realize that people, in fact,  _ weren't _ amazed by his lack of wings. 

With age, of course, came further awareness of his surroundings. Dan began to notice how uncomfortable people got when he stood too close. He noticed the whispers shared between those lucky enough to be born normal. He noticed his self confidence levels dropping through the floor as the years ticked by at a snail's pace. 

Overall though, Dan was glad that his parents had found some out of work friends who didn't care about their son's disability, or at least didn't blame them for it. They deserved happiness.Dan liked to tell himself that he too deserved the sacred feeling of happiness, but of course that sounded like a bit of nonsense. He always felt a bit guilty whenever his parents had to take care of something for him, or cancel something to be at Dan’s service. It was more than a bit of guilt really. What burden wouldn’t be guilty?

Dan had once apologized to his parents for the struggles he put them through, but they waved it away like any good parent would. They hugged him and told him they loved him no matter what he looked like. This, of course, made Dan happy. It was moments like those that really gave Dan a sense of belonging, but for some reason, those moments were scarce. He had been alone for so long that he would treasure even a single second of eye contact, telling himself that the shifting of someone’s gaze was a slight greeting. 

The day ticked along slowly. Dan’s parent’s didn’t show up after the designated “brunch time” that was from midmorning to sun high, but that didn’t bother him all that much. Dan filled his day with warm tea and sunbathing from the windowsill of their living room window. The expected boredom never settled in, surprising him and leaving him to sit all afternoon, his feet gently dangling high above the ground. From his position, Dan could see everything from monkey nests to dragon-bee hives. 

He actually wasn’t afraid of the dragon bees, which was just an added quirk to the rest of his strange existence.  He loved the sticky, sweet honey they produced as they blew their hot pink and warm orange flames from their so-called stingers. They were almost as different as Dan was. 

“Are you aware that there’s a beehive about ten feet from you?”

_ Phil Lester… _

“Yeah, I’m fully aware.”

“You’re not meant to be near those, they’re dangerous.” A mischievous smile crossed Phil’s face.  

“You’re not meant to be near me, as I’ve said a million times before.” Dan shot back, only half kidding. 

“You’re not dangerous though.” Phil’s smile carried up to Dan from the ground below. “I know you aren’t.”

A gentle breeze flowed between them calmly, running between the greenery like a child’s hand through water. 

“Well, neither are they.” Dan said, looking down at Phil. “People just fear them because they look different.”

“Nice metaphor.”

“I try,” Dan smirked. “You know, they can’t even sting anything. Their “stinger” is really just a funnel, and their flames only get to about 35 degrees celsius, which isn’t even hot enough to burn.”

“So you like nature then?”

Dan noticed the sun glint off of the tips of Phil’s wings as the blackness spread out beneath Phil on the ground. 

“Enough to read up on them. We need to notice our surroundings or our fears may destroy them.” Dan shifted his position, bringing a single knee up to rest his chin on. “Like you with the dragon-bees, or anyone with the dragon bees. You’d want to knock down their home and destroy their work, even if you won’t admit it”

Phil stopped fiddling with the piece of grass in his hand to look at Dan. 

“Your mind amazes me.” He said plainly.

Dan blushed, quickly wiping away the comment. He was confused, extremely confused. “What brings you outside of my window yet again?”

Phil looked back down to his lap and smirked, chuckling a bit.

“Why, the person inside the window, of course.”

…

“And there are these brown things that grow  _ right under the ground.  _ Like,  _ in the dirt _ .”

“That’s disgusting, who would ever eat that?”

Dan’s parents had arrived back home shortly after Phil’s arrival. Neither of them had seen the boy, hidden under the shade of one of the great trees, and Dan was glad. He didn’t want them to assume he had a friend, because Phil wasn’t a friend. Not really, anyway. He knew nothing about Phil besides that he was kind and gentle and amazing and loved warm tea with a dollop dragon-bee honey.

“I’d eat that. Potatoes are delicious.” Phil said still in his same spot on the ground. Dan wouldn’t have been surprised if he had left a permanent Phil-shaped indent in the flowing greenery. “Of course, they only grow far up in The North. I went on holiday there last year, and it wasn’t really all that cold. Well, compared to here it was.”

And this is how their evening was spent. Dan remained perched in the windowsill as Phil stared up from the ground, Bishop watching from a nearby tree. They talked about everything and nothing all at once, both types of things seeming extremely important. Dan wished to invite Phil up to talk to him, but that would be too welcoming. Still unsure of Phil’s intentions, Dan decided it would be much safer to just allow Phil to sit on the ground. It amazed him that Phil was even there in general, for he knew how much he was risking. 

 

As the light blue sky of day shifted to the vibrant purples, oranges, and pinks of sunset, the two boys didn't once tire of talking to the other. Dan found Phil interesting, he thought that the seemingly random thoughts that swarmed beneath the black haired boy's skull were some of the most intriguing he had ever heard. Even when the three, luminous moons replaced the glaring sun in the now dark blanket of night, Dan and Phil continued to talk.

"The stars are pretty." Dan said somewhat suddenly, interrupting their conversation about giants. Through the canopy of his home, some of the brighter stars shone through the swaying leaves, and Dan could even make out a constellation or two.

"They are." Agreed Phil, who from his position with his arms behind his head, had been staring at the tiny orbs of light for a while.

"Do you believe there's anything else out there?" Dan asked dreamily as he gazed up at the vast and endless sky.

"I like to think of it this way. Do you think that maybe there's somebody out there right now, lying under the stars on whatever planet in whatever galaxy, wondering the exact same thing?" Phil replied, leaving Dan to crease his eyebrows in confusion.

"You're not very good at yes or no questions." Dan pointed out, causing Phil to release a chuckle; a sound that rang through the night air and echoed lightly off of the bark that encased the tree holding Dan's house.

"I guess I'm not," he stated, "but I think that if there is any other life out there, I'm almost positive they already know about us."

"What makes you think that?" Dan asked, turning his attention from the night sky, to the boy laying in the grass beneath him. Phil's wings were dark and ominous; puddles of black spread out towards either side of his long body. The drops of dew that had formed over time on his wispy feathers mimicked the glimmering stars in the sky high above him, and Dan watched as his broad shoulders came up in a shrug.

"Don't you think they would have visited us by now? Y'know, like in the old stories?" The boy asked from his windowsill with a small grin on his lips. Phil smiled smugly in return, his blue eyes momentarily reflecting the smallest moon's grayish light, as they flicked upwards to make contact with the brown irises of Dan's orbs.

"Maybe they already have."

Dan pondered this, his gaze trailing thoughtfully back towards the starry sky. Maybe if he stared long enough, the universe would simply unfold, and reveal to him its darkest secrets, its most hidden treasures. 

"What is that even suppo-" he began to ask, but stopped when he looked down at the ground, and saw that where Phil had been laying, was now a flattened down, empty bed of grass.

Needless to say, he was growing a bit annoyed at the older boy's habit of vagueness right before disappearance.

For the rest of the night, Phil's words remained ringing in Dan's ears. He wasn't even sure why, it was a simple statement, a guess even, but it was Phil who had said them; and Dan didn't think Phil was the type of person to say anything that wasn't important.

It was for this reason that the next night when Dan was lying down in bed, he couldn't help but to think back to the conversation they'd shared under the stars. He remembered the way Phil's eyes shone when he released those incredible thoughts from his brain. And what truly wonderful thoughts they were.

...

When the sharp rap of something small hitting his window rang throughout the room, Dan's heavy eyelids snapped open. He waited, staring off into the darkened depths of his room, and just when he began to think that the noise was simply a branch, or a misheard creaking of his house, the sound repeated itself. Dan sat himself up, and tossed his covers that he had been hugging to his chest over to the side, his bed swinging a little at the sudden movement.

A cool draft blew across Dan's bare stomach as he swung his legs over the side of his bed, and padded softly over to the wooden shutters leading outside. The sound repeated, this time in a set of three, and Dan quickly realized - in the midst of his drowsiness - that the sharp noises were knocks. Gently, he pushed open the wooden shutters, having to squint slightly at the sudden brightness of the largest moon's soft, grayish-purple light being cast across his previously dark bedroom. 

Dan was taken aback by the close up, white-furred face of Bishop, who made a tiny squeak of excitement at the sight of his friend.

"What is it?" Dan whispered after getting over his immediate surprise, watching as the small monkey hopped up and down on the windowsill and made even more noises of delight. Midnight visits weren’t exactly normal behavior for Bishop. 

The petite primate flapped his speckled wings, which appeared to nearly glow in the full moon’s luminosity, as he stared at Dan with wide umber eyes. When Dan held out his arm for Bishop to climb up like he always did, he simply glided over to the nearest branch, and began pointing frantically at the ground with a little, furry, finger.

Dan shifted his gaze from the animal, and instead focused on where Bishop was pointing; where he was met with pale skin, and a pair of vibrant blue eyes smiling back up at him.

"Phil?" He whispered louder than was intended in surprise. A small smile appeared on the Phil’s thin lips.

"Dan."

"What are you doing here?"

"The same thing I always do here," Phil responded, "I’m standing under your bedroom window." Phil stuck his hands in his jacket pockets. Dan could see the feathered tips of black wings poking out from behind the grinning boy.

"It's past midnight." Dan pointed out in a hushed tone, as to not wake anyone inside his house.

"And?" Phil's eyebrow was raised a little, while he took his usual spot on the grass with his legs crossed.

"We have school tomorrow." Dan continued from his window a little nervously, crossing his arms over his chest as he became more aware of his shirtless torso.

Phil's smile grew."Your concern for achieving our sorry excuse of an education is adorable."

Dan didn't really know what to think about that. 

A chilly breeze flowed through the air despite the time of year, as if the last of the cool weather were saying its final goodbyes for the season; and small goosebumps began rising on Dan's tanned arms. He took a few steps backwards into his room- as he was self-conscious of his bare shoulder blades- and grabbed an old t-shirt from his drawer, before returning to the windowsill to pull it over his head.

"How'd you get that cool scar on your stomach?" Phil asked from below, and Dan cautiously lifted the shirt hem back up a little, running his fingers over the smooth white mark that ran diagonally an inch or two from his bottom rib. He smiled a tiny bit at the silliness of the childhood memory.

"When I was four I jumped out of a really small tree." Dan replied, laughing at how stupid that sounded.

"Well what'd you do that for?" Phil asked, grinning and playfully scolding the smaller boy.

"I thought that maybe I was a Lost Boy." Dan answered a little dreamily.

Phil looked confused, "A what?"

"A Lost Boy." Dan repeated, "They're these kids from an old fairy-tale book my parents used to read me when I was little. They fought pirates in a place called Neverland with their leader Peter Pan." He went on to explain.

"And what exactly did these Lost Boys do to make you think you could jump out of a tree?" Phil asked, gazing up at Dan with interest.

"They could fly without wings." Dan responded, before looking up towards the sky a little, and scoffing after a few moments of silence. "I had my faith and trust, just not my pixie dust." he muttered bluntly, which caused Phil's look of wonder to turn into that of confusion. “Sorry, I get dramatic so easily.” 

"Maybe you could show it to me sometime?" the black haired boy asked, and Dan swore Phil could hear his heartbeat pounding from on the ground. “The story, I mean.”

"Yeah, that'd be nice." Dan's speech faulted slightly, and he couldn't help but smile.

The pair looked up at the sky in unison, their eyes trained on different moons. 

“Hey, Phil?” Dan’s voice seemed so small compared to everything else. 

“Yeah?”

“Earlier… what did you mean when you said that whoever’s out there already knows about us?” 

Phil laughed gently, looking up at Dan, their eyes connecting.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” 


	5. olmadan

_ great things are done by a series of small things brought together _

_ -vincent van gogh _

 

The first day of the school week rolled by quickly with the thoughts of Phil whirling around Dan’s head in a nonstop tornado. He thought of his form in the grass and the words that he spoke. Their “space talk” had really stuck to Dan, leaving him with a hint of existentialism. He had problems, he knew he had problems, but all of those problems seemed to be pushed away as his new problem came in. Phil, with his stupid shiny eyes and stupid pretty wings and stupid confusing opinions had swooped in and carried Dan away from reality.

Now  _ that _ was a problem. 

A loud chime rang through the air, alerting the students to proceed to their next class. Dan hurried out of the art room to avoid any awkwardness with Charlie, who hadn’t actually said anything all period. The usually charming boy had sat slumped over in his desk for the duration of class, angrily scribbling onto a piece of paper. Dan wondered if it was due to the infamous koi pond incident.  _ It shouldn’t be _ , he thought. Charlie had no need to worry about competition. There was no way in hell Phil would even consider Dan. 

But why else would Charlie be upset?

Dan wove through the thick crowd of students, huffing wildly as he desperately tried to make it to In-Flight on time. There was no flying in the school unless it was between floors, which seemed rather stupid to Dan, and he didn’t even know what if was like to have wings. Wouldn’t it just be more convenient? 

Quick feet carried Dan down the several flights of stairs he had to endure every day. The marble steps only ended at the entrance of a small garden pathway, fading from smooth stone to soft gravel. The area was usually vacant, him constantly almost being late to class, but today there were a few stragglers. Dan made his way up the path with his head down as two blonde haired boys sat against the wall of the school that the path followed, laughing as soon as Dan came into sight. 

Dan rolled his eyes and sighed, trying his best to ignore them. But then again, it’s a bit hard to ignore being tripped. 

Immediately, the boys let out a chorus of laughter, the contents of Dan’s bag spilled all over the ground. He groaned, his hands suspending him from completely hitting the ground. he lifted his head slowly, his brown hair falling over his eyes. Through the strands, he could see a very pleased Charlie Skies smirking from the opposite side of the garden passageway. 

“Yeah, really original.” Dan mumbled, his face hot. Charlie grinned, the boys laughed, and Dan flinched as someone grabbed his arm. 

“Are you alright?” Phil asked, his voice full of panic. His eyes were wide, searching around desperately until connecting gazes with Charlie, whose grin faded immediately. It was if the pair was talking without words, Phil’s expression changing from worry, to anger, to pity, then molding into a mix of all three.

“We’re done.” 

The words rang out through the garden, and everything stopped.

Phil helped Dan stand entirely, allowing him to use him as a balance if needed. 

“Can you walk?” Phil grabbed Dan’s elbow gently to flip him around towards the stairs. 

“They didn’t beat me, Phil.” Dan said in a soft tone, the color slowly draining from his face as a cloud of anger entered the atmosphere. 

“Let’s go,” Phil pulled Dan by the elbow, his strides long and his wings entirely tucked back. 

“Phil,” Charlie said in a dangerous tone, but Phil did anything but stop walking.

“Phil!” Dan squeaked, pulling back gently, willing him to stop. The two blonde boys then stood up, all laughter gone, but Phil didn’t stop pulling. Heavy footsteps followed the boys, cueing Phil to dodge into the staircase, his grip shifting from Dan’s elbow to his hand as they scaled the first flight. They paused at the first enclosed break, Phil dropping Dan’s hand and leaning against the wall. 

“Shouldn’t we keep going?” Dan asked, his voice obviously shaky. Phil smiled gently as he painted an unreadable expression over his face. 

 

“Don’t worry. They don’t know how to go up or down the stairs.”

 

\---

 

Dan skipped his last class once again, only this time he was intentionally accompanied by Phil. No words were exchanged until they completely exited school grounds, disappearing into the thick forest. The guilt from days ago had settled in Dan’s chest once more. He walked two steps behind Phil, even though he was positive he knew the forest floor better.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Dan asked carefully, not sure if Phil was upset with him or not.

Phil nodded, beams of sunlight passing over his face. “Yeah, my house. If that’s okay, I mean.”

Dan’s stomach dropped. Phil’s house? Phil’s house probably didn’t have any system to help him to conquer the height. And even despite this point, Dan hadn’t exactly ever been to friend’s home before.

Phil turned to face Dan when he got no response, seeing the worried expression on his face. It took him a moment to realize the suggested problem, an immense apologetic feeling casting over him. 

“I… I probably won’t be able to get up.” Dan finally answered, adjusting the strap on his bag nonchalantly. Phil smiled gently, stopping to walk beside Dan instead of in front of him. 

“Don’t worry,” He said, reaching out his arm to brush against a layer of bushes. “We have stairs.” 

 

\---

 

Dan knew they had arrived as soon as a large meadow came into view. He didn’t’ know what he was originally expecting, but the sight before him probably wasn’t it. Phil’s house wasn’t huge; it might’ve even been smaller than Dan’s. His home  was perched in a humble tree that was obviously old. A spiral of stairs wrapped around the base of the trunk, leading up to a small wooden door only about thirty feet off of the ground. Thirty feet was not high at all, and this confused Dan. His home was almost sixty feet in the air.

“Why is your house so low?” Dan wondered aloud, his eyes trained on the stairs. Phil looked back at him briefly.

“You’ll see.”

The boys crossed the meadow and climbed the stairs together. Dan was sure Phil would’ve flown if Dan weren’t there. When they reached the top, Phil held the door open for Dan, pointing out the fact that Dan’s knee was bleeding.

“I’m fine,” Dan insisted, giving a small smile.

“I’ll get you a wrap for that. Make yourself at home.” Phil smiled kindly, closing the door behind them and walking through one of the two doors that branched off from the main room; his overall mood seemed to become better as the warmth of the home welcomed them.

Dan’s eyes swept around the front area. Beautiful paintings hung on each wall of the boxy, four sided room. Directly across from the front door laid a ladder, tightly bolted to the wall as it rocketed straight upwards. Dan had been wrong about the size of Phil’s house. It was indeed huge, just taller and leaner than most. The doors that occupied the other two walls weren’t actually doors at all, more like huge archways leading around the base of the tree and gradually leading up. This intrigued Dan, and he decided to follow the path Phil hadn’t chosen.

Dan’s path led him to what at first looked like a sitting room. A single L-shaped couch sat across from where Dan stood in the doorway, pressed back against a wall with three high-arched windows giving way to the grassy fields outside. The sitting area was what Dan's mother would've called "well lived in," with creased in cushions, and an unfolded blanket tossed carelessly over the back of the furniture. What intrigued Dan the most, however, were the outward facing spines of countless books that took up not only every flat surface, but almost the entire wall to his left. Ranging from pocket-sized to encyclopedia-sized, the new and old books created zigzagged lines of space between their tops and the next shelf, which were more than often, occupied with even more books. From the floorboards to the ceiling, the place was a library.

 

Dan soon discovered that the room wasn’t even all that big, but for some reason, he was experiencing reverse claustrophobia.  Aeroacrophobia. The piles of books made the room seem wider and more vast in the way that Dan knew he could absolutely get swallowed up by all of the books at once. He walked slowly along the wall-sized shelf, allowing his fingers to graze over the multitude of worn spines, all bent and crinkled from being read so often.

By the time he'd gotten over to the wall with the couch, Dan was vaguely aware of the slight pain in his bleeding knee, though it was more of just an annoying sting. He simply ignored it whilst he made his way over to one of the intricately carved side tables that stood by the couch, where besides a few of the occasional pieces of literature, a couple of pictures sat in frames.

Dan picked up the smallest one with careful interest, noting the smoothness of the frame beneath his fingers. He was met with a very young looking Phil - no older than eight - smiling with a toothy grin through the glass. The boy's pinkish skin was dusted with freckles across his nose and cheeks, but Dan couldn't possibly miss Phil's familiar blue eyes, and dark hair. In the picture, Phil’s eyes were brighter than stars and his grin wider than the ocean. Dan couldn’t hold back the small “aw” that escaped his lips. 

He set the picture back down gingerly to pick up the next. This image featured Phil once more, but this time he sat next to a girl who had the same exact nose as him. This one was much more recent. Dan guessed Phil to be thirteen and the girl to be fifteen, but that was only a rough estimate. 

The girl's honey blonde hair ran down to her stomach in a wet braid, while Phil's clung to his forehead in dripping strands. They both wore swimsuits, eyes squinted at the sun that most likely sat behind the photo-taker. In the background, Dan saw the crashing waves of the sea, frozen in time. This, and the sand that speckled their skin, lead him to believe that the two were down by the coast. Dan had never personally seen the ocean before, and he had to take a moment to appreciate its deep and engulfing blueness. 

The girl had one tanned arm wrapped around Phil's shoulders, which were extremely pale in comparison, and the comfortable smiles that formed so naturally over their similar faces practically screamed family relation. That's when Dan realized what was off with the scene. 

"There you are." Phil's voice said from behind him, making Dan jump and nearly drop the frame, before quickly setting it back down. He didn't want to seem as though he were prying.

"I'm sorry, I was just-" Dan began, but stopped, because seriously what even  _ was  _ he doing. He was in Phil's house, looking through Phil's things, after having broken up Phil's relationship less than an hour before.

"So, um, you like to read?" Dan finally blurted as a useless way of hiding the fact that he was nearly choking on his own tongue.

"Well actually, this is all my sister's. If I'm being honest, I've probably only read about five percent of the books in here." Phil replied with a small chuckle, looking around the room in what looked like nostalgia. "You should've seen the place a few months ago before dad and I built the bookshelf, it was absolute chaos." He laughed. The mental image made Dan smile.

"C'mon, the first aid kit's in here." Phil motioned, and Dan followed with precaution and hesitation, vaguely aware of the black hole-like space of books behind him. Phil led them back into the front room and sat Dan down in a rocking chair, where at its feet, sat a small red box. He found that the wooden chair held a surprising amount of comfort, but gripped the carved arms tightly as the taller boy knelt down and began rolling up Dan's pant-leg. There was a gentleness in his touch that was trying its best to let the injured boy know that he only wanted to help, and that's exactly what Dan continued to remind himself when the cool air hit the mild scrape on his knee, making it sting more.

"I'm fine you know," Dan stated through clenched teeth as the other boy dabbed gently at the scrape with, what he assumed, was disinfectant; yet despite his carefulness, it still stung. "You don't have to go all nurse Phil on me."

Phil smiled at that from his kneeling stance, and quickly got out some healing cream, before squirting a decent amount of it on his finger. 

"I just can't believe he would get happiness out of something like that." Phil stated as he then rubbed the cream in small circular motions over Dan's wound.

“I don’t know if I would call it happiness,” Dan said, groaning slightly at the soothing feeling of the cream. “It’s more like… vengeance. But maybe that’s too cruel of a word.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

 

Dan shrugged. “I’m not even sure. He just, well, he’s never done anything like that before. He’s just kind of ignored me up until this point.” Phil said nothing as he put a bit more pressure on Dan’s leg. 

A question formed at the back of Dan’s throat. It felt itchy in his mouth, as if it had a million metaphorical legs. Phil continued to bandage the small flesh wound as Dan had an internal war over the curious question.

“Hey, Phil?” He said nervously.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me about your sister?”


	6. bez

_ “Our real discoveries come from chaos, from going to the place that looks wrong and stupid and foolish.”  _

_ ― Chuck P _ a _ lahn _ i _ uk _ _ , Invisible Monsters _

“Tell me about your sister?”

Phil smiled at the ground as he finished applying the wrap, giving Dan’s leg a squeeze before letting go.

“I assume you saw a picture?” Phil took a seat opposite of Dan, pulling his knees up to his chest. Dan nodded in response, looking back at the photo. “What if I call her in here instead of me just telling you about her? She’s just upstairs.” The look of hope worn on Dan’s face gave Phil the answer he was looking for. “Kami! Come here, please!”

The patter of footsteps was heard from many stories above, flat feet hitting the smooth wooden floors. It wasn’t long until a small squeal of joy was heard from the top of the ladder the boys had previously stood in front of.

There was a thud and a small squeak. “Yeah, Phil?”

In walked Kami, Phil’s older sister who, in fact, like Dan had seen in the picture, lacked a pair of wings.

Dan’s jaw dropped at the same time as Kami’s, at the same time as Phil’s grin appeared.

Kami’s hand was brought up to cover her mouth as her feet carried her in long strides towards Dan, stopping just a few inches from him. She bowed her head to look at his feet, slowly tilting her head upwards to drink in his entire figure. Her eyes caressed every inch of him, every curve, every bump, every misconception, until their eyes met.

“Turn around,” She said breathlessly. Dan complied, awkwardly shuffling 180 degrees in order for his back to face her. He now faced Phil, whose grin was still fully visible. This made Dan smile as they shared a look, Dan’s being grateful and Phil’s being meaningful. Kami’s fingers started at Dan’s shoulder blades, lightly tracing downwards to where two identical wings should have been. Her touch was gentle and smooth. Suddenly, without warning, Kami threw her arms around the brown haired boy, pulling his back close to her chest. Dan’s eyes grew wide as he was pulled backwards sharply into a hug.

“This is amazing!” Kami exclaimed, bouncing up and down a bit before releasing Dan from her grip. “You don’t have wings! I don’t have wings!” Dan turned back to face her, walking around her slowly to take a double take.

“Wow,” He said quietly, weaving his left hand through his hair. “Wow…hi, wow.”

Phil laughed. “I didn’t really know what the reaction would be between you two.”

Kami turned a light red, becoming extremely self aware. “You should’ve warned me or something! I’m totally unprepared! I haven’t even bathed!” 

It suddenly all clicked in Dan’s head. Phil wasn’t tricking him; he wasn’t trying to get something out of him. What Phil wanted was to give his sister what Dan had been dying to know his entire life; the knowledge that she wasn't completely alone in the world.

"I just can't believe it." Dan awed as he gazed over Kami, before quickly holding out his hand. "It's, uh, nice to meet you." He faulted slightly, and the girl in front of him smiled as she extended her hand as well.

"Same goes to you."

 

…

 

"So what was it like for you, growing up I mean?" Dan asked Kami, who sat across from him in the long grass of the meadow that surrounded the house. Soft golden light shone off the girl's honey colored hair, which Phil had successfully woven into a braid. He had been extremely proud of his work and had gone off to find some flowers to add to the plait.

"It was quite alright actually, compared to what it could have been." She replied, lazily twirling a blade of grass through her fingers. "We hit a sort of rough patch a couple of years after Phil was born when my dad left," Kami continued, "I was really young, but I still remember how sad Mom got. I used to think that he forgot to give her her heart back before he walked out." 

"I'm sorry." Dan murmured after a minute of silence, because in all honesty, he wasn't the best at comforting people when they were down; but to his surprise, Kami simply shrugged.

"Don’t apologize, it's not like I blame you.” She paused carefully. “I don't even really blame him to be honest." 

"Why is that?"

"My dad never wanted a family," Kami explained, "I mean, even as a kid I could tell he was unhappy here... in this town, with us. He loved my mom, don't get me wrong, but I think they just wanted different things."

"But that doesn't give him the excuse to just leave you guys." Dan retorted, shifting his support from his elbows to his hands so that he was sitting up properly. The long grass of the field had left soft, cross-hatched indents in the skin of the boy's arms as it often did to anyone who sat the same way for too long.

"I never said it excused his actions. I'm still so angry at him for leaving us the way he did, without even so much as a goodbye. Trust me, Dan, I could never forgive him for what he did. I just think... I'd rather him be wherever he is and happy, than stuck here with us and miserable." Kami went on to explain, causing Dan to reconsider what to say next.

"If he didn't want a family, then he shouldn't have had kids." He pointed out. "You can't just ditch your responsibilities like that."

"That's very true. Even though my aunt said he left because he wanted to travel and see the world," Kami stopped, suddenly looking quite small as she stared at the complex braid that fell over her shoulder, "I think he left because of me."

"I'm sure that's not true." Dan retorted.

"Yeah, it is. I mean, he never wanted me in the first place, and we had to move twice because people kept finding out about my disability and he couldn't handle all the negative attention." Kami argued, "We moved here, he installed the staircase, and then he left that very same night." 

The meadow was thrown into silence with nothing to be heard but the chirping of both birds and distant bugs. "I think it was that day when he realized that he didn't want to be building staircases for the rest of his life. He wanted to fly, just like he was meant to." Kami's voice said, shattering the quiet. 

Dan didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. What could he say?

“Kami, you’re not allergic to Plum Flowers anymore, are you?” Phil’s voice rang across from the other side of the field, flowers protruding from the bundle he held in his arms. Dan smiled as the boy struggled to keep the plants in his grasp. 

“Not really, their color just causes me to feel the need to projectile vomit.” Kami said, grinning in Phil’s direction. 

“But you look so lovely in purple!” Phil pouted, holding up a single blossom as he reached the other two. 

“Blue suits me better,” She insisted, reaching for a few of the blue flowers. “What are the blue ones even called?”

Phil let out a small giggle, dropping the pile gently on the ground. “They’re referred to as Blue Dick, actually.” 

“Sounds a bit like Dan,” Kami laughed, stopping abruptly as Phil shot her a deadly look. “I mean-”

“Poor things, they probably spend half of their lives at a psychiatrist's office with a name like that.” Dan said, reaching for one of them. “They would look nice in her hair, Phil.” 

“But the Plum Flowers!” 

“If you don’t let those damn things go, you’re not allowed to touch my hair!”

“Seriously, Kami?”

“I’ll have Dan do it instead!” 

Dan smirked and bit his lip. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, really.” 

“It’s a perfect idea, c’mon, Dan!” Kami patted the grass behind her and pointed at the flowers. “If you even attempt to put a purple flower in my hair, I will ruin you.” 

Phil laughed, moving out of the way for Dan. “You don’t look all that confident, friend.” 

“I’m not!” 

 

...

 

“Her hair honestly didn’t look bad, okay?” 

“I nearly put a purple one in!” 

Phil’s laugh rang out through the dim woods. Neither of the boys had realized how long Dan had stayed until sundown approached. Phil had offered to walk Dan home, and Dan had graciously accepted after talking to Kami for a few more minutes. She had made him promise to come back to visit her soon and regularly.

“We’re leaving a different way from where we came from.” Dan noted cautiously, glancing at Phil. 

“I know. This is the way I go to your house, though.” Phil smiled, holding a branch up for Dan to duck under. “It’s only a bit longer than the other way, plus you can see the sky through the trees really well!” 

From what they could see, there were no clouds covering up their starry sky. Two full moons were visible through the brush, along with a sliver of the third crescent moon. The white light reflected off of the trees and onto Phil in such a way that made Dan’s stomach do flips. Phil’s wings were tucked to his back tightly in order to not crowd Dan, but Dan almost wished that his wings were outstretched so he could feel their gentle touch, even if it was only for a moment. 

If it were with anybody else, walking through the woods at night wouldn't have been at the top of Dan's to do list, yet with Phil, he almost wished they'd never reach his house. He was walking through a strange forest, with a strange boy, and he'd never before felt so safe, so familiar.

"I have this theory on the Great War." Phil announced quite out of the blue, and Dan couldn't help but scoff a little.

"Doesn't everybody nowadays?"

“Yes, but everyone else's sounds the same." Phil groaned childishly, causing Dan to roll his eyes in fake annoyance.

"Well please, do share then."

“Gladly,” Phil smirked, veering off of their path slightly to step up onto a small stump. He threw out his arms, his wings following as they unfolded, slicing through the pale moonlight. “I believe that we are all here for a purpose. I believe that we were meant to fly, and I believe that we were never meant to be discovered. I think that something - someone - found us when we didn’t want to be found, and I think that our history is more intense than some may assume.” 

Under any normal circumstance, Dan probably would've made a comment about Phil dragging him out here as a captive audience to listen to his conspiracy theories, but the 'captive' boy was far too enticed with both Phil's words, and the way that the moonlight had perfectly complimented every single one of his features to say anything. 

“Everyone thinks that we had some kind of civil war, the winged against the wingless. To me, that sounds kind of silly, because up until that turning point, there is no hint of fear towards the wingless. I’ve read multiple books that were published before the war, and there’s barely even a mention of people who lack wings.” Phil took a breath, stepping down to sit upon the stump. Dan took this as an invitation to sit in front of him in the tall grass. “There are a few, of course, from way way back. That was in a medical diary though, it was an entry on mutation, which is the leading factor of why people nowadays don't have wings, if not the only factor.”

“Well, don’t forget about wing removal as a form of punishment. Didn’t they used to do that for murderers or something?” Dan asked, crossing his legs to angle his body in a position that made it easier to look at Phil. 

Phil nodded. “Yeah, I suppose that was a thing, but that’s not really the same as being wingless entirely.’ He paused abruptly, rubbing his shoulder with his right hand. “I think...Well, my theory is a bit more complex than a civil war.”

“What is it?”

Phil looked at Dan, his eyes sweeping across his figure. “I think that we were invaded, attacked, by some out of this world force.”

“Aliens?”

Phil nodded. “Aliens.”

The two stared at each other for a second, the only noise being the wind in the trees. It was strange, no one seemed to share ideas nowadays, yet here they were discussing one of the most controversial topics in their world. It was strange, but it was nice. 

“Well, I mean-” Dan started.

“Let’s get you home.” Phil cut Dan off, standing up and offering a hand to help Dan up. 

“Okay,” Dan said softly, taking Phil’s hand. Phil pulled up gently, willing Dan to almost fall into his arms. 

“Careful,” Phil said, smiling, squeezing Dan’s hand and leading him back down the path to his home. 


	7. sonder

_if you're betrayed, release disappointment at once. by that way, the bitterness has no time to take_ _root._

_ -toba beta, my ancestor was an ancient astronaut _

  
  


It was late by the time Dan had finally gotten up to his room, though the last thing he felt like doing was sleeping. He felt wired, his brain surging with a mix of alertness and creativity, the type of combination which wasn't very convenient on a school night. Dan couldn't have cared less though, he wanted to paint.

And so instead of retiring for the night to his bed, Dan threw on his rattiest t-shirt - one that had already experienced many nights such as these before - and brought out his supplies along with a fresh, blank canvas. There was a certain feeling that seemed to wash over Dan whilst he decided where to start with his brush, dipped lightly in a midnight blue paint. It was a feeling of complete control and freedom, as he knew that only he could decide what became of the blank slate before him, and there were no restrictions but the edges of the canvas. 

There were times where Dan had to plan out paintings for hours before he knew exactly what to paint, but his was not one of those times. The brush guided his hand across the canvas, dipping in the perfect places and shadowing effortlessly. This continued for two hours, his hand gliding and swishing between pallet and canvas until his eyes were too heavy to continue. 

It was at that point when Dan wondered if his drowsy creativity had been such a good idea after all. He slipped off his paint splattered t-shirt and crawled into bed, plopping down into the pillows and gripping the soft blankets to his chest. He almost didn’t even care how the painting turned out in the morning, but the other part of him knew he’d be disappointed in himself if he were to get the image that had been in his head wrong.

His head was clear that night. He had no memorable dreams, no distant thoughts to pull him out of sleep. The sun woke Dan up early, shining down on him in a way that made him get the idea that today was to be a good day. Dan sat up in bed and stretched until his muscles were content with an unusual smile on his face. He felt good, a feeling that was much stranger than it should’ve been. He rolled out of bed gracefully, bouncing up to his feet and getting dressed almost immediately. He slipped on his shoes and packed up his art, not bothering to look at the painting too much in the fear of judging his own work and never finishing it.

“Dan, get- oh, you’re up already!” Mrs. Howell looked exhausted and worn out for whatever reason. The bags under her eyes seemed to take up her entire face, aging her immensely. Dan smiled at her, waving slightly.

“Yeah, the sun woke me up.” He said, motioning towards the window. His mom nodded, looking slightly suspicious. 

“Alright, well, breakfast is in the kitchen. We have oatmeal, berries, just take whatever you want, okay?” Her voice sounded strained.

Dan was worried about his mom. He wanted to ask her if everything was alright, but decided against it. He didn’t need any before school conflict; he was determined to make today a good day. He put on his kindest smile and nodded at his mother, while she offered a weak duplicate in return, and left him alone.

On his way to school - though Dan couldn't really explain it - everything just felt  _ right.  _ The sunlight shining through the massive canopies felt balanced in a way that provided him with the perfect amount of warmth and brightness. Dan's entire world was set on high definition, and even the sight of the massive school building, nearing slowly through the gaps of the tree trunks, wasn't enough to dampen his mood.

Today, Dan approached the school-grounds with confidence, his head held as high it could be with his two feet still planted firmly on the ground. Though fellow students soared to massive heights above him, Dan felt on top of the world.

It seemed as though no one else was sharing Dan's back to school attitude, as most of their moods matched the depressing wardrobe of gray each and every teacher in the building was entitled to. Dan sat through lecture after boring lecture as per usual, but none of them seemed as lengthy or torturous. It was only in the hallways on his way to art, that Dan began to wonder if his wonderful start on the day, had simply been some sort of foul trick.

 

It was habitual for Dan to keep his eyes on the ground when traveling through the halls. This diminished the chances for eye contact and unfortunate situations. A small smile became present in the place where a dull face would have normally rested on Dan. Smiling felt good to him, he liked smiling. Despite this, something still felt off. Dan tucked his bag in closer to his side and stood a bit taller in the hopes to ward off all strange feelings. 

He rounded the corner slowly, making sure to stay close to the wall as he entered a hallway lined with loitering students, all of which would ignore him. Dan took this as an opportunity to study his peers. He watched how they moved, how they reacted, how they appeared to others in comparison to Dan. Everyone’s perspective was different than Dan’s, and he knew it. 

Dan lifted his head, pointing his chin to parallel with the ground to make him seem more important in some sense. His eyes grazed the crowd, stopping on a pair of two familiar people. 

Phil Lester and Charlie Skies. 

Both of them leaned against the wall across from the art room, their eyes locked and their smiles wide. Dan could feel his stomach drop. His gaze traveled down to their entangled hands, Charlie playing with Phil’s fingers as they both laughed over something Charlie had said. Dan was falling, he could feel himself plummeting. There was nothing he could do but stare at the couple as their faces gradually grew closer and closer until their lips met in a sweet looking kiss. 

Dan was suddenly slammed against the glass display case on the other side of the hall by a crowd of nearly late students, snapping him out of his real life nightmare. 

And before Dan really knew what was happening, he was stumbling into art class, nearly-finished painting in hand, as he tried to keep the look of hurt out of his features. He felt like he was failing. His chest hurt from the stabbing feeling that refused to leave, his eyes hurt from the tears that stung as he blinked them back further, and his shoulder blades hurt from the force of which he'd been shoved against the trophy case after standing still for far too long in the bustling hallways. Dan couldn't help but think that if things had been different, it would be his wings that were hurting. Those stupid, non-existent wings that plagued his life and cursed him with a smooth, un-feathered back.

Dan felt like he was rotting, like a crumbling hole had formed where his lungs should've been, and with each shaky inhale, more and more of him was deteriorating. The late bell rung in his ears like a siren, echoing off his thoughts that strung together in lengths of intertwined novels.

Dan didn't remember walking from the front of the classroom to his usual spot in the corner, but he recalled keeping his gaze from falling anywhere but on Charlie Skies, who glared at him from his seat next to Drake. The painting in his hands had managed to unravel itself, spread out before Dan on the easel which projected his work back at him. Dan felt numb, from the hole in his chest to the tips of his fingers which brushed blindly across the millions of different shades of blue.

Swirls of midnight only broken by the whites of stars coated the paper, leading down into the jet black of both trees, and a mop of shiny hair. Dan's fingers caressed the two-dimensional duplicate of a smoothened white cheek, and trailed towards the pale lips poised in a delightful, lopsided grin. It was the orbs of blue  _ above  _ the lips that got him though, encrypted in a lighter azure than the surrounding darkness. They reflected the galaxies above and burned into Dan with their glee.

In fact, the entire picture burned with realism. The blue, no longer feeling like the crisp night air, felt instead like the bottoms of the hottest flames, searing the edges of the hole in Dan's chest. It was quite possibly the best work he'd ever done, it was so realistic; no, it was  _ too  _ realistic.

With another trembling breath, another ache in Dan's lungs, his fingers traveled over the surface of the portrait, until he had a grip on the topmost corner. The blue was engulfing him, boiling water in his throat, until he was tearing the corner in one swift, downward motion. With a sharp rip that could be heard over even the other background conversations, the piece of paper turned to two, then three, then six crumpled up bits; victims to the calm rage that had emerged from the deepest pits of Dan. Though despite his efforts, blue still burned in the backs of his eyelids.

He knew he had made a mistake. 

He especially knew he had made a mistake when a familiar voice sounded behind him. 

“Tsk, tsk, what a shame. I bet that was a lovely piece of art.” 

Dan didn’t even turn to face Charlie. 

“Would you allow me to see it?”

“Go away, Charlie.” Dan mumbled. 

“What did you say?” Charlie laughed. Dan took in a shaky breath.

“I said  _ go away _ .”

Suddenly, Charlie had Dan’s shoulders in his grip, spinning him around and practically throwing him against the wall. Dan shrunk down to the floor, shoving the painting behind him to resist further conflict. Charlie’s wings spread out in anger behind him as he glared down to Dan. 

“You need to stay the fuck away from Phil.” 

And Dan did. 

Dan made no attempt to see Phil for the next three days, and Phil made no attempt to see him. Dan scurried through uncrowded passages in the school to get to each class and to avoid everyone. Phil was never present beneath Dan’s window for those three days. They let each other be alone until Friday. 

Dan sat under the same tree he always did during In-Flight, his fingers busy at work with the grass chain he had been working on for the past half hour. His sketchbook laid open in the grass in front of him, a sketch of a nearby flower on the open page.  Despite being left out of everything, Dan really enjoyed In-Flight. It was relaxing, sitting outside in the shade. He enjoyed it. 

He was definitely better than he was on Monday, he had kind of recovered, but he still hurt. His art style had become more angry than airy, his overall appearance looking a bit sloppy. The constant reminders to stay away played through Dan’s head constantly as his pencil glided across the paper. It was strange, being alone again. He had had someone, even if it was just for the shortest amount of time. Dan was back to being alone and silent, and honestly, it sucked. 

The wind was blowing through the trees gently when Dan closed his eyes and rested against the tree he sat under. He remained aware of his surroundings, knowing exactly when two feet landed on the ground a few meters away from him. His eyes remained closed, not in an act of fear but in an act of relaxation. He didn’t want to move, and speaking was really one of the last things he wanted to do. Over the past few days, Dan Howell  had become completely bitter. 

And then a foot tapped against the side of his leg. 

Dan took it upon himself to open one eye, an action he immediately regretted, for standing above him was Phil Lester. 

Phil looked down on him in a way that was almost pitiful before releasing a grin that only seemed to appear around Dan. 

“Mind if I sit? There’re usually two trees, but one of them seems to have gone missing.”


	8. carente

_ “the fiercest anger of all, the most incurable, _

_ is that which rages in the place of dearest love.”  _

_ ― euripides, medea and other plays _

  
  


Dan remained quiet in response to Phil's question, refusing to even do so much as open his other eye. He felt as though this way, he wasn't giving Phil his full attention. This meant that whatever interaction following the conversation Phil obviously intended to have was in no way Dan's fault.

Phil, not getting an answer from the boy on the ground, took it upon himself to sit down anyway. He sat with his back against the rough bark, letting his wings fall to the side. The silence hung between them as neither took the liberty to be the first to speak.

“You’ve been distant,” Phil spoke after some time, turning to Dan who still kept only one eye cracked open. At the sudden contact however, he immediately shut it.

“Yeah? Well... so have you.” The last part shook with uncertainty. Dan dug his right heel into the ground hard, trying his best not to let his frustration override him. 

Phil let out a tiny sigh and leaned his head back against the tree. “You’re right, I have been.”

He left it at that for a few minutes. The pair sat semi-awkwardly in each other’s company, one staring upwards at the tree’s leafy branches while the other remained fixated on the ground. 

Finally, Phil spoke again. 

“So,” He carefully began. “Charlie told me he saw you painting a lovely piece earlier in the week.”

“I bet he fucking did,” Dan mumbled, the tips of his ears growing hot. “I’m sure ‘lovely’ was the exact phrasing he used.”

“It wasn’t,” Phil admitted. “But I assumed it was, or is, I guess. Everything you paint is surely wonderful.”

“You’ve never seen it. And it  _ was  _ a piece of shit.”

A serious expression slipped onto Phil’s face; his brows furrowed and his thin lips came together to form a slight frown. “Why are you always so hard on yourself?”

“Because there’s nothing to be pleased about.”

Dan felt awful for being so sour towards Phil. After all, Phil had been one of the only people to ever acknowledge him or show any kind of interest. But deep down, Dan knew he had reason to be upset. 

“Dan, I can explain everything.” Phil’s voice shifted into a tone Dan had never heard before. It sounded broken and complex; like every emotion currently pulsing through Dan. 

Phil’s tone made him angry. 

Phil had nothing to be mad, or sad, or worried about. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Dan said sharply, pursing his lips. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Phil shut his eyes tight for one, two, three seconds before standing up and unfurling his wings in one slick motion. He looked at Dan softly and apologetically.

Dan refused to look back. 

“I understand,” The simple phrase flowed off of Phil’s tongue gracefully before taking off with him into the air. Dan’s eyes popped open as Phil’s wind engulfed him. His white-hot gaze burned into the dirt between his knees. A whistle blew just a few moments later, dismissing the students from another tretorous day at school. 

As Dan walked through the woods, his mind became incredibly clear, as if he was completely devoid of thought. He let his vision blur as he walked and stretched his hands outward to feel the breeze wafting through the forest floor. 

He was calm. It was a nice change. 

But when he reached home, his trance came to an abrupt stop. His path treked right over the spot where Phil had been just a few nights before. The thought of Phil refused to be shook from his mind.

Even with the high amounts of stress and emotional exhaustion flooding his body, Dan was immediately able to notice that several things were wrong upon pulling himself up into humble abode. For one thing, there was laughter ringing throughout the hallways. And while laughing - and happiness in general - wasn’t at all uncommon in his home, the voice that this laughter  _ belonged  _ to most certainly was. While he was able to pick out his own parent's distinct chuckles in the background, another voice, loud and female, boomed over those much like thunder trying to drown out the pattering sounds of rain. 

Dan  _ knew  _ the voice, he could tell that much. Trying to establish an identity with nothing but sound waves made him feel like he was trying to address names to birdsong again like he used to when he was little. The one thing he did know though, was that this laughter was far from birdsong.

For whatever reason, the voice stirred childhood recollections around in the melting-pot of memories that was Dan's brain. It brought with it the feeling of complete annoyance, along with both the distinct smell and taste of burnt zucchini bread. This sensory, along with the fact that his bed had been untied from its hanging position on the ceiling, and the blue suitcase that stood in the corner of his room, were all apart of the mystery that Dan could already tell he wasn't going to like the solution of.

He pulled his bag over his head and dumped it on the floor next to his desk, puzzled by what was going on. Did they have a visitor? No one ever stayed at the Howell’s. 

“Dan, are you home?” His father’s voice rang out amidst the other cheerful voices. Dan sighed and ran his hands threw his thick hair. The last thing he wanted to was converse, especially not with adults. But he knew well that there would be trouble if he did not answer his father’s calls. His barefeet padded across the house to the sitting room, revealing his parents and a woman whom he believed to be his aunt. He hadn’t seen his aunt since his early school days when she decided to move to The North for no reason in particular. 

She looked so different from what he remembered.

Her hair was the same dirty blonde shade that it was previously, but her wings had shifted to a soft white. Her face was expressive as ever, but tiny lines, wrinkles, and divots now resided upon her skin. 

Everything about her annoyed Dan.

“Aunt Dinah is here!” Dan’s mom exclaimed happily. “Can you believe it? It’s been, what, nine years?”

“That would be correct.” Aunt Dinah nodded. In her right hand she held a crystal glass filled with what Dan first assumed to be water, but then he looked at her face. Her eyes were droopy and her mouth hung at an angle that seemed much too unnatural. “Hello Daniel,” She smiled politely at her nephew, taking another sip of her beverage. 

After murmuring a few quick words of greeting, Dan turned on his heels and marched back to his room. He suddenly became more aware of the potent smell that wafted from Aunt Dinah’s glass. The aroma had somehow filled the house, causing Dan to gag. What in the world could ever create that rancid of a smell?

Dan sat on the corner of his deconstructed bed and began to gnaw on his left thumbnail, his leg bouncing up and down rapidly. He felt anxious and confused, sad and alone. The feeling was all too familiar, almost comforting. How could such a dark emotion feel comforting? Dan wanted nothing more than to get out his art kit and paint, to open his bedroom window and call for Bishop, to look down and spot Phil.

_ No. _

Dan caught himself thinking about Phil all the time. Relating everything to Phil had become reflex, even after just a week. He had forced visions out of his head for the past three days; no more daydreams or hidden desires. It had become exhausting, and Dan couldn’t help but let thoughts of Phil slip into his mind and fill it with a strange kind of colorful blackness. 

_ Lips… eyes… chest… _

_ Warmth. _

_ Togetherness. _

_ Comfort.  _

_ Happiness.  _

And then reality came crashing back. Dan cursed under his breath. The goosebumps that had broken out up and down his arms stayed, but the thought passed quickly. 

It had to. 

After all, Dan wasn’t capable of love. 

Mrs. Howell called for him just before sundown. The smell of fish and lemon filled the house, masking the smell of whatever God-awful substance Aunt Dinah had allowed into her body. Upon his arrival into the kitchen, Dan was greeted by a wide array of dishes, from fruit salads to some sort of bean dip. He was impressed. Was all of this for Aunt Dinah?

“Take a seat, Dan. We’re having a family dinner tonight.” Mr. Howell instructed, pointing Dan to an open seat next to his Aunt, who sat in his regular spot. The urge to shove the small woman out of his chair was almost overpowering, but Dan sat obediently without another word. 

“Let’s eat!” Dan’s mom smiled, clapping her hands together. “I never would have guessed I knew so many recipies!” 

All signs of an appetite had left Dan long before this atrocious family dinner. 

“You always go above and beyond, dear.” Dan’s dad said happily. 

The four ate slowly - the child ate especially slow - and talked about everything from Dan’s art to Mrs. Howell’s cleaning habits. It was all meaningless small talk to fill where silence would have taken over. 

And then the subject of travelling came about. 

“Where did you even go, Aunt Dinah?” Dan asked dully, trying his best to add to the weak conversation. A pained expression crossed both of his parent’s faces, the grip on their utensils becoming stronger. Dan immediately noticed the tension in the room. “Sorry, did I say something wrong?”

Aunt Dinah picked up the napkin placed in her lap and gingerly dabbed at the corners of her mouth, though no food resided there. 

“Asking where a person has traveled is rude, Daniel.” She said plainly. “Do you have no manners?”

“I’m sorry,” He said as if it were a question. “I was just curious as to where you went, what you saw, that kind of thing.” Dan bit his lip nervously. Aunt Dinah was practically a stranger to him; a stranger in his own home, his own room. She made him ten different kinds of anxious, and she had only been present for a few hours. 

“You asking me about my trip is like me asking you about how you feel about your adoption. Karen, he should know better.” 

_ His… what? _

His parents looked horrified.

“My... I’m…” Dan sputtered in disbelief. His gaze traveled from his mom, to his dad, and back to his mom before landing on Aunt Dinah, who wore the most unapologetic expression. 

“Dinah,” Dan’s mom hissed.

“Honesty is important, Karen.” Aunt Dinah reached out for her glass. “You were raised to know better than to dismiss your son from manners, even if he  _ is  _ disabled.” She smirked before taking a sip. “Even if he’s not blood related.”

“That’s enough,” Mr. Howell stood up. The situation had escalated so fast, no one knew what to do. “There’s no need to be hostile.” 

“What does she mean?” Dan asked quietly, dropping his head to stare intensely at his full plate. Both his mother and father’s mouth hung partially open, neither of them being able to form a comprehensible sentence. “What the fuck does she mean?” Dan harshly repeated himself, getting angrier by the second. He lifted his head to look at both of his parents. They actively avoided eye contact. 

“Language, Daniel.” Aunt Dinah said smugly, continuing to sip at her beverage. 

“So she’s not lying, then?” Dan scoffed, a hint of mad laughter entering his voice. “Is this some kind of sick joke?” 

His mother began to cry. “Dan, please, let us explain.” 

“Obviously,” He laughed. “There’s nothing  _ to  _ explain!” Dan stood up sharply, exiting his chair and shoving it into the table as hard as he could. 

“Daniel,” His father warned as the table shook with all of Dan’s fury. “You need to listen to us.”

Dan’s awful laughter suddenly combined with two eye fulls of tears that refused to spill. “No, actually, I don’t.” He stepped around the table quickly, his voice cracking. “After all, I’m not your fucking son, am I?”

“Oh, Daniel, would you quit overreacting?” Aunt Dinah said, sounding more bored than concerned. “This is plenty dramatic.” 

“Just leave me alone.” He croaked, heading down the long hallway to the exit of his home. “Just let me be.” 

As he willed the pulley system to launch him towards the ground as fast as it would allow, he heard his parents voices calling to him. They pleaded for him to return, for him to listen, but as soon as his lift hit the ground, he ran. The tears he had tried so hard to hold back poured out of him as he ran. Sobs racked his body as he ran further and further, making it strenuous for him to breathe. 

The forest was just as scary to be in alone at night as Dan had imagined. 

Every chirp, every snap, every hum made Dan jump as if everything was out to get him. 

That’s how he felt. 

After a lengthy period of gasping, wheezing, and sobbing, Dan’s legs completely gave out. He found himself in a field of long grass with a wonderful view of the sky. Stars blurred together and moons became fuzzy as Dan stared through pools of tears. He could feel his heart rate dropping and his lungs slow recovering. His chest heaved violently as now silent tears slid down the sides of his face, trailing all the way down to his ears and beyond. His family was a lie, and his life was a lie. 

Nothing felt real to Dan anymore, especially not the hurried footsteps of a wingless girl.

“Dan?” Kami said gently, kneeling down next to the mess of a boy. “Dan, are you alright?” With no ushered response, Kami pushed back the sweaty mop of hair pasted to Dan’s forehead and fanned the boy with her hand, willing him to become calm. “You need Phil,” She muttered worriedly. “I’ll be right back.”

Dan watched her take off back towards the house; watched her climb every step circling their tree. He wanted to yell and scream for her to stop, for Phil was the last person he wanted to see. 

Or at least that’s what he told himself. 


	9. lucror

_i don’t want to judge what’s in your heart, but if you’re not ready for love,_

_how can you be ready for life? how can you be ready for life?_

_-soko, we might be dead by tomorrow_

 

A cool rag was placed gently across Dan’s forehead. He could feel the heat radiating off from above his brow and evaporating into the frostiness of the rag. 

“He’ll be okay, Phil. He’s just tired and dehydrated.” 

“How the hell did he even get here?”

“He ran, I think.” 

The conversation felt like a dream. Phil and Kami’s words were hazy, lightly floating around Dan’s brain. The pair spoke softly, as if they didn’t want to be found. The aroma of tea soon filled the room. Dan opened his eyes. 

Phil was staring at him, and not in a way that was far-off or out of focus. It was completely focused, extremely intense. 

And then it broke.

Phil blinked two, three times as he realized Dan was coherent. 

“Hey,” Phil said softly. He looked so tired. Bits of hair clung to his forehead messily as if he hadn’t showered in a few days. He hadn’t looked so broken earlier in the day. His eyes were tired though very concentrated. He was crouched over himself in the chair, his elbows placed flat onto his thighs and knees. Dan noticed that his hands were curled into fists, and for a second, he thought he was only imagining the dark purple highlighting the knuckle of each finger. 

But then he noticed that bruises covered the entire front of both fists. He noticed the matching purple bruising on the underside of Phil’s jaw. 

“Holy shit,” Dan mumbled quietly as he began to slowly sit up. “What happened?” 

“Shh,” Phil scolded. “My mom’s asleep upstairs.” He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Don’t worry about me. What happened to you, Dan?”

“I don’t understand what you’re asking.” Dan bit his lip. He clearly understood what Phil meant, but he was also clearly embarrassed by the entire situation. He was embarrassed that he had gone seventeen years believing a lie. He was embarrassed that he had somehow managed to run directly into Phil’s front yard whilst being angry at him. He was embarrassed that he felt so fucking weak. 

“Would you like some tea?” Kami offered politely. Dan jumped, for he hadn’t realized her placement directly behind him. 

“I-I mean, I should probably get going. I shouldn’t be here.” Dan said. The situation was beginning to become more and more clear to him; it was becoming all too uncomfortable. The skin just below his eyes felt stiff from the recent tears. He stood up carefully and coughed a few times into the crook of his elbow. 

“No, stay.” Phil said. He sounded panicked. “Please, Dan.” 

“Seriously, Dan. You should stay.” Kami motioned for him to sit back down, handing him a cup of tea in the process. “You can talk to us.”

“Don’t force him,” Phil mumbled, his eyes glossing over. “He just needs to be safe.” 

“I am safe,” Dan protested. “And I’m completely fine. Just please, let me go.” He pleaded with Kami, trying his best to avoid contact with Phil. 

She shook her head. “No, Dan. You need to stay.” She peeks around Dan. “Phil wants to talk to you.” Kami then exited the room swiftly, leaving the tea behind to brew in the silence. 

“Please sit down,” Phil’s voice wavered as he motioned towards the chair Kami had previously sat in. 

“I really have no desire to do so,” Dan replied unabashedly. “In all honesty, I really have no clue how I even got to this damn house.”

“You were running,” 

“Believe it or not, I’m actually self aware.” 

Phil sighed out of his nose in frustration. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“You know, you’re the last person I want to talk about this to right now.” Dan knew he was telling a blatant lie, but maybe if he said it out loud enough times, he could convince himself to believe it. “I really don’t want anything to do with you, Phil. I’ve had enough of you toying with me; popping up below my window at ungodly hours and leaving abruptly, holding my hand one day and then-” He paused, his entire body becoming tense. “Kissing your fucking boyfriend in the hall the next. I don’t need that - or any of it - in my life.” 

Phil’s lips parted slightly as his expression transformed into a deeper frown. “You weren’t supposed to get hurt.” 

“Was this some kind of _plan_?” Dan sputtered. “Was this some sort of shitty plan that Charlie formed? What the fuck does he even have against me anyways?” Anger built inside of Dan, rage on top of rage. “I trusted you, Phil. I was so naive and I trusted you just after a few days.” His arms lifted towards his head, bending at the elbow as Dan grabbed fistfuls of his own hair. “I-I have to go Phil.” 

He left just as the tears started to pour once more. 

Dan jogged down the steps outside of their house, stifling sobs that he planned to save until he was further away. Tiny lights filled the meadow, softly illuminating the grasses and flowers. It was pretty, Dan had to admit, but he could not bring himself to admire it. 

“Dan!”

He could hear Phil calling his name in the distance, but he had made a promise to himself that he would not be weak. 

“Dan, _please_!”

He continued to walk forward towards the forest, completely unsure as to where he was going. Dan felt sick, complete and utterly sick. He officially had no real friends and no real family. It was as if finally, after all this time, everyone was finally right; he was completely alone; no one wanted him. 

Dan had heard the sound of wings much sooner than anticipated. As they came closer and closer, his stomach seemed to shrink. He felt sick, unable to deal with the incoming storm.

“Dan, just let me explain.” Phil said from above. Dan continued walking and Phil continued pleading for quite some time until Phil finally snapped. 

“Dan, would you please quit walking away from me?” Phil’s voice sounded strangled as he landing harshly onto the ground. Dan didn’t respond. He didn’t know how to respond. He just kept on walking as his vision grew blurry and his shoulders grew tight. Phil inhaled deeply. “You can’t just walk away from things you don’t like, Dan!”

Dan turned around sharply on his heels. “And why not? Why can’t I keep walking? Would you rather I’d fly? If so, I’m sorry but that can’t be done, Phil!” His fists and jaw clenched in unison. “I can’t grow wings, I won’t ever have wings! I’m forever a freak, and you shouldn’t be near me. I shouldn’t be near you.” He backed away from Phil, thoroughly frustrated. “You have no idea how hard it is for me every day, Phil. Every day, I sit there and take in all of this _stupidity_ that’s aimed towards me and I can’t do anything about it! The only thing that’s keeping me going at this point is something I can’t even have. You have no clue how hard it is, Phil.”

Phil’s eyes grew softer, his expression shaping into gentle understanding. 

“But I do know, Dan.” Phil swallowed, nerves hitting his stomach harshly. “I know exactly how hard it is to see the person you love every single day and know that you’ll never be able to have them because of some stupid folkway. I know how much it hurts to see the one you love suffer. I know how painful it is to be so afraid of hurting someone that you don’t know how to behave around them.”

“But you don’t understand-“

“I understand completely, Dan. I understand how scared you are and I understand how sometimes you might want to turn invisible.” Dan saw Phil’s wings begin to flap just moments before he appeared directly in front of him. “I-I understand how different you are. I understand that those differences make you beautiful to me, at least. I understand how much I want to just hide you away in my arms so no one can ever hurt you again, and understanding this is just leading me to understand how much you truly mean to me and how I absolutely could not handle it if you continue walk away.”

“Phil,” Dan’s hand came up to rest over his mouth as Phil’s hand came up to brush away strands of hair from the shorter boy’s face. 

“I understand how much I want you to know how special you are, Dan.” And with that, Phil’s arms wrapped around Dan’s waist, pulling him in close in the first intimate embrace Dan had ever experienced. 

Dan didn’t know what to do with his arms. They awkwardly dangled at his sides until Phil’s palm flattened at the small of Dan’s back, bringing him closer. From then on, Dan did what came naturally. He shook as he brought up his arms to loop around Phil’s neck and placed his cheek against Phil’s shoulder. His nose faced the soft crook of Phil’s neck.

Phil smelled like the first day of spring.

The compassion that was completely surrounding him became much too overwhelming for Dan to deal with. And with that, he began to cry. He cried into Phil’s shoulder, getting tears and snot all over his shirt. Phil hugged him tighter in an effort to make him stop, but it only made Dan cry harder. 

“Shh, shh,” Phil comforted. “Sit down,” He guided them to the grassy floor below them without releasing Dan from his embrace. “It’s okay, love.” 

Phil sat first in a loose criss-cross fashion. He lead Dan to sit in his lap, Dan’s legs wrapping around Phil’s torso. 

“This feels so nice,” Dan whispered into the now damp fabric of Phil’s shirt. “It feels like heaven.”

“You’re so brave, Dan.” Phil said, rubbing the boys back. Dan continued to cry harder at the mark of affection, leading Phil’s eyes to soon water.

“Why are your knuckles bruised, Phil?” Dan sniffled. “Why do you seem so hurt?” 

Phil faltered. “Charlie knows a lot about my life - a lot about my family - and that information just couldn’t get out. We… We’re not even dating anymore, Dan. We haven’t been for weeks. He just won’t let me go. It’s like I’m trapped.” 

Dan wove his arms underneath Phil’s armpits and hugged him tight. 

“It’s all an act, Dan. We’re not the perfect couple, we’re nowhere close to that. Charlie and I aren’t even friends. He went too far today, he told me he was going to do something horrible to another person and I just couldn’t handle it.” Dan was the one doing the comforting now as hurt continued to grow inside of Phil. “I punched him, Dan. I’ve never punched anything in my life before today, and I got in a full blown fist fight. I’m horrified with myself.” 

“Why?” Dan asked calmly, still sniffling. 

“Because I’m pretty sure I won.” Phil chuckled. “I don’t know. It’s all fuzzy in my head looking back on it now. My jaw and stomach really hurt.”

“I’m glad you stood up to him,” Dan said. “It’s about time someone has.” 

“I don’t exactly think I’ve seen the last of him, but it is the weekend, I suppose. That’s at least two days Charlie free.”

Dan nodded, his eyes fluttering shut. He was so tired, exhausted really. It had been a long day. 

“What happened to you, Dan?” Phil questioned. “Why were you running?”

“Honestly, I don’t want to talk about it or think about it right now.” Dan said softly. “I’m so content with everything in this moment. I don’t want to focus on anything else but this moment.” He could feel Phil smile into his hair. 

“You’re really something else, Dan Howell.” Phil said. “You’re so beautiful.” 

Dan blushed in the pale moonlight. “You know, I’ve never been held like this before.” 

Phil pulled back in disbelief. “Wait, are you serious? You’ve never been hugged?”

“Besides by my parents, no. I haven’t been. Everyone seems to think I’m pretty untouchable.” Dan looked down shamefully. “Sometimes, I don’t blame them.” 

“Don’t say that,” Phil said. “They don’t know anything.” 

“Obviously they do. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be labeled as such.” 

Phil sighed, deciding it was best to bring Dan closer to his body rather than argue with him. 

“I’m so tired,” Dan murmured after a while. “I don’t want to go home.” 

“Come home with me,” Phil suggested almost too quickly. “Sorry, that was way too forward. I just meant, if you have nowhere to stay, you could stay with me. That is, as long as you’re not against sharing a bed.” 

Dan shied back a bit. He really didn’t have any other options besides Phil - not that he objected to the promise of being around Phil, it was just scary. But after a few moments of thought, he found himself nodding and smiling in agreement. 

They tiptoed up the front stairs and though the thin halls of Phil’s house. Dan took the ladder up though the house, and out of courtesy, Phil followed closely behind. Phil didn’t like flying around Dan. 

Phil’s room was at the tippy top of the structure, towering high above the ground. The ceiling was made of glass, exposing them to the outside world under a thin barrier of trees. Phil’s bed was huge, taking up the majority of the room. Candles of various sizes and smells lined the shelves next to his bed, some of them appeared to be lit but dimming from use earlier in the night. A medium sized chest rested against one of the five walls, above it hung a wreath of dried out flowers. 

“Your room is amazing,” Dan drooled over the coziness of it all. 

“Thank you,” Phil smiled. “Do you need comfier clothes or are you going to keep up with the habit of no shirt and underwear?” 

Dan blushed. “I’ll just wear my boxers and my t-shirt.” 

“If you’re sure,” 

Dan stripped off his bottoms while Phil was getting two glasses of water. He carefully climbed into the big bed, sinking into the plush immediately. Dan sighed in contentment, surrounded by the aroma of the one he was most fond of. Phil wandered into bed just a few moments after Dan, setting the glasses of water on the small bedside table before slipping under the covers. At first, the two of them laid side by side a few inches apart. Phil resisted the urge to entirely scoop up the boy into his arms, he didn’t want to scare him. But much to his delight, Dan was the one who bridged the gap. 

Dan turned his body to face Phil, tangling their legs together and pulling his body closer to Phil’s in one swift motion. Phil smiled, happy they were getting along so nicely. Reflexively, Phil placed a soft kiss to the top of Dan’s head. 

Dan looked up to Phil, his eyes wide. 

_He hasn’t been kissed either,_ Phil quickly realized. Brown, curious eyes stared into a deep, knowing blue. 

Dan scanned the surface of Phil’s face lightly. He noticed slight bend of his nose and the adored color of his eyelashes. He stared at his soft, pale cheeks and rosy lips. He was better than anything he could ever manage to paint.

They blinked at each other a few times as Phil’s hand came up to cup Dan’s cheek. Dan’s stomach felt fuzzy, his whole body felt fuzzy. 

Phil’s nose slid next to Dan’s, leaving just a few millimeters of space between their mouths. “You’re so beautiful,” Phil whispered, leaning in closer and closer. He wanted to give Dan the first kiss that he deserved. 

Their lips brushed together gently and sweetly. The contact reminded Dan of a million fireflies dancing. He felt as if his brain was melting into something simpler and happier. He felt complete with Phil.

They broke the kiss at the same time, though neither one of them truly wanted to stop. Phil placed a few more kisses across Dan’s forehead before pulling him in close to his chest.

And together, the boys drifted off into a deep, well deserved sleep. 


End file.
